


don't skip leg day

by Barrhorn



Series: Meme Reposts [9]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/F, Flirting, Voyeurism, mostly just mercy appreciating the buff ladies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 22:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7863775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barrhorn/pseuds/Barrhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Aleksandra and Fareeha invite Angela to join their morning workouts, she doesn't realize just how difficult it will be to concentrate on actually, you know, working out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't skip leg day

Sometimes Angela wonders if she should return to her routine of running laps around the base. Outside. By herself. Sometimes she wonders if that wasn’t the better option, really. Her morning runs had been a chance to start the day refreshed, with her thoughts organized.

Until the day she’d accepted Fareeha and Aleksandra’s invitation to join them in the gym, and now Angela starts her mornings more frazzled than when she went to bed the night before.

She tries to listen to the rhythm of her feet on the treadmill, or concentrate on her breathing, on absolutely everything and anything that isn’t the two people currently laughing by one of the benches on Angela’s left.

“Keep going,” Aleksandra is teasing, standing with her arms crossed over the bench as Fareeha presses the barbell up into a full extension. “Soon you will match my record from when I was little girl.”  
Fareeha grins back at her, holding the barbell - which, Angela has noticed, weighs more than she does - at full extension, speaking before she smoothly brings it back toward her chest. “You’re the one that wants to lug a cannon around everywhere.” Angela’s trying to listen, trying not to focus on the way Fareeha’s arms and shoulders flex, or on the lines of her deltoids and triceps, with minimal success.  
Aleksandra merely shrugs. “This from a woman who wears a heavy metal bird suit into battle.”  
Fareeha, exhaling into the push, can only glare at her. “It’s not a bird suit,” she mutters. “How many was that?”  
“Were you not counting?”  
“Aleks.” Her name is a growl.

“Twelve,” Angela hears herself saying, and the two women look at her. She waves away their attention, hoping they’ll take the flush in her cheeks for exertion rather than embarrassment. “The last time someone ‘forgot’ to count I had to patch you both up afterward. Please save me the trouble of having to do so again.”

Where Fareeha’s grin is sheepish, Aleks’s is amused. “That was fun day,” she says, and laughs when Angela rolls her eyes. “For you, we will be good,” she concedes. “Fareeha always works harder with you here. No, do not complain,” she looks at where Fareeha’s glaring up at her with the barbell fully extended again. “Roar of crowd always made me stronger. Angela and I, we will be your crowd.”  
“Maybe I just wanted my spotter to be paying attention,” Fareeha mutters, carefully not looking at Angela.

Which was just fine by her, honestly, considering she had no idea how to respond to that revelation. They settle back into their routines as Fareeha finishes her reps and racks the weights, Angela starting to slow down her pace and cool off.

She follows them into the locker room, anticipation and dread fighting it out in her stomach as she passes by her daily sweet torture: the shower room. Aleksandra and Fareeha are laughing, completely oblivious to her turmoil. And to be fair, she’s grateful for their ignorance, not wanting to explain why she’s developed a sudden shyness over the past few weeks when she’s had years to become used to the open showers of the Overwatch gyms.

So every day she grits her teeth and showers with the two women she finds unbearably attractive, both of whom seem to not realize at all what they do to her with each little bend and twist. Once they’d decided to have a flexing contest in the shower and asked her to judge, and she’d honestly considered passing out as a possible means of escape.

“Angela!” Aleksandra booms, making her jump, and she looks over to where Aleksandra has captured one of Fareeha’s braids, rolling it casually between her thumb and finger. “I say we dye Fareeha’s hair. Dark blue, almost black. Can only see in certain light. Very mysterious; very sexy.” She winks and Fareeha just crosses her arms over her chest in exasperation. “What do you think?”

“Uh-“ She’s trying to picture it. Fareeha standing out in the training field in her Raptora suit, her helmet tucked under her arm. Turning her head suddenly and the sun giving just a glimpse of the color. “I think it could-“  
The image comes to her unbidden: Fareeha on her hands and knees above her in bed, her hair falling around her face. The light above her filters through the strands and reveals the color, though it couldn’t distract from the way she bit her lip-  
“I think it’d work well,” Angela finishes a bit weakly.  
Aleksandra laughs. “You see? A good idea!”  
Fareeha puts her hands up in surrender, though Angela can’t tell if she’s actually giving in or just trying to get them to leave her alone. Probably the latter. “I’ll consider it then.”

Taking pity on her, they let the topic go as they undress and enter the shower room. Angela watches out of the corner of her eye as Fareeha puts her head under the spray of water, soaking her hair, rivulets of water running down her back. If Angela has to explain Fareeha in one snapshot, she would be hard pressed to find a better one than this: Fareeha’s broad shoulders and the defined muscles that carry the weight of the Raptora suit, that endure the impact of the jets. The small spray of shrapnel scars above her right hip from her army days and the large circular exit wound scar from a sniper’s bullet on her left side. But those are the only scars visible from her current viewpoint; most of Fareeha’s scars are on the front, scattered across her torso and arms, with a few on her knees and shins. This is a woman who faces danger. This is a woman who doesn’t flinch. This is a woman who sacrifices of herself to protect those around her.

Fareeha is beautiful. And when she shifts her weight, bending one leg and straightening the other one behind her in a stretch, it turns her body into a waterfall. Gleaming light reflects off the water streaming down her skin, over her glutes, hamstrings and calves.

Angela forces herself to look at the tiled wall in front of her, then sticks her own head under the water, hoping it will wash away all her thoughts about what she’d like to do to that body.

—

Angela’s dragging herself back to her room after a long night when she finds herself passing the gym and pauses, looking inside to where Aleksandra is working out alone. It’s… different. She wouldn’t say that Aleksandra holds back while she and Fareeha are there, but she moves a bit slower, pauses to laugh more. Now, by herself, she moves with more purpose and determination, each rep flowing smoothly into the next.

She’s doing deadlifts almost silently; the weights on the bar never contacting the floor even as she squats, nothing more than a puff of breath escaping her even though Angela thinks the bar looks like it’s going to snap from all the weight on it. Her control and strength are as impressive as ever and make it hard not to stop and watch. Her hips and knees are fluid and graceful, every motion seeming effortless. She remembers Aleksandra teaching her the exercise and chiding her for her knees not being “soft” enough. It was a strange idea to her then, even more so when Aleksandra had laughed and said, “I will show you.”

When she thinks of Aleksandra she thinks of the hard lines of her muscles, the steady constant strength of her arms. She thinks of how Hana likes to “accidentally” run into Aleksandra just to then put on a big show about how much it hurts, as if she’d run into a brick wall instead.

She thinks of the way Aleksandra roars with laughter and pretends to inspect Hana every time, often scooping her up in her arms and bringing her to Angela to treat for those pretend injuries. She thinks of the post-battle exam where she discovered Aleksandra was ticklish, the Russian begging her not to tell anyone.

Soft knees, Angela thinks, watching her place the bar down to take a nearby towel and wipe her face and neck. Yeah. That makes sense.

As Aleksandra puts the weights away and moves to her next station, Angela finds that she’s leaning against the doorway. This should be when she slips out, when she leaves Aleksandra alone before she distracts her with a tank’s worth of weight above her head or something that could be equally as disastrous. But she’s enjoying this. After last night’s call to the med bay when the transport returned from a mission, there’s something calming and beautiful in Aleksandra’s performance.

At least, up until she turns toward the door with a welcoming smile on her face. “Angela!” She laughs and brings both of her arms up to flex. “I am getting stronger, yes?”  
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Angela answers, but she can feel the tiredness in her smile, and Aleksandra paces forward, her eyebrows coming together in concern.  
“Are you all right?” She pauses before adding. “Is everyone all right?”  
“Yes, I was just-“ Angela hesitates. _I was just passing by_ doesn’t feel right, and _I was just watching you_ is a little too honest for her right now. “I just wanted you to help me keep an eye on Fareeha for the next few days. She broke a couple of ribs - she’s fine!” she says hastily when Aleksandra straightens with a rumble. “But she should take it easy for a while. I figured she can’t avoid both of us.”

Aleksandra looks past her toward the med bay before nodding once, decisively. “Yes. This is good plan. If she gives you any trouble, I will come to your aid.” But as her attention returns to Angela, her voice gentles. “And you, doctor, should be going to bed now. You look ready to sleep on your feet.”  
Nodding, Angela wills her eyes not to close. “I’ll see you later. Be careful without someone here to spot you. And come get me if you pull something again.”  
Aleksandra chuckled, a hand on Angela’s shoulder gently steering her out the door and into the hall. “No more worrying about me. Sleep first, before _I_ begin to worry about _you_ making it to your room.”

Angela murmurs something, torn between protesting her fitness and teasing Aleksandra that if she’s truly worried she could just walk Angela the rest of the way. Or carry her there. Instead she obediently turns her feet toward her room and goes on her way alone.

—

More missions, more people returning needing attention even when - especially when - Angela doesn’t go out with them. They keep her busy for the next week, and when she wakes up a little before five A.M. one morning, she decides to forgo trying to to nap for an extra half hour and goes for a run instead.

A proper run, outside in the cool mountain air that reminds her of Switzerland. And at first, it’s lovely and relaxing and everything she’s been missing in the gym: the feeling of dirt beneath her feet and the sound of birds waking up around her. But when she glances at her watch and realizes that Fareeha and Aleksandra are in the gym right now, she finds that she misses them. It’s foolish, she thinks, shaking her head at herself. She did see them both only the night before at dinner. But the mornings have been their time, just the three of them, with an easiness to the laughter and and an intimacy that went beyond the shared showers.

For just a second she can feel Aleksandra’s arms wrap around her shoulders, her chin resting on top of her head. _We missed you today,_ she says.  
For just a second Fareeha’s callused fingers brush along her cheek and trace the shell of her ear. _It’s not the same without you._

She almost trips on a tree root and has to stop, bracing her hands on her legs just above her knees and trying to catch her breath. This is getting to be too much.

Angela jogs back to the watchpoint, but her heart rate doesn’t slow, and she wonders who she’s trying to fool this time.

—

She heads to the locker room and tells herself it’s because that’s where she left her clothes this morning. Because she does have to take a shower. Because using the shower in her room and changing into a new set of clothes would be admitting to cowardice.

Because she’ll probably see Aleksandra and Fareeha there.

But when she walks into the locker room and hears the showers already running, she almost turns around and walks right back out. Instead, she finds herself quietly pulling off her shoes and socks, moving to the open doorway that leads to the shower room and glancing around the corner inside.

Fareeha and Aleksandra are standing under two showers right next to each other on the right side of the room, not looking her way. Their voices are just a low murmur over the water and when Aleksandra laughs low in her throat it’s like a razor to her nerves. Angela pulls back, pressing her forehead against the cool tile and her hand over her racing heart. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be watching them without their knowledge.

Despite the heavy ache of guilt in her stomach, she leans around the doorway again. Aleksandra has her fingers wrapped around Fareeha’s bicep, making an appreciative noise that instantly floods Angela’s veins with heat. Jealousy - wanting to touch Fareeha so familiarly, wanting Aleksandra to make that sort of noise over _her_ \- along with embarrassment and the sudden dread of the impossible combine to lock her in place despite wanting to flee. _Of course._ It makes sense that they’re interested in each other. They’ve been flirting in front of her; either she’s just imagined being included or they were only doing so to be polite.

A sudden sharp inhale brings her attention back to the pair, seeing how Fareeha has pushed Aleksandra back into the wall. Aleksandra’s nose wrinkles. “Cold,” she complains, and Fareeha just laughs.  
“You can take it.” And her hands are on Aleksandra’s stomach, her fingers framing her abs. She leans forward, and Angela closes her eyes on the sight of Fareeha’s lips following the lines of Aleksandra’s tattoos.

Oh, she should really not be here. She should really not be enjoying this, but her ears are straining for every sound not drowned under the thrum of water, and the memory of Fareeha’s mouth sends a shiver through her.

She peeks just as Aleksandra cups her hand around the back of Fareeha’s neck, her head tilting back, moaning a name.

“Angela-“

Fareeha freezes as a jolt shoots through Angela, straight to her stomach, and the doctor clasps a hand over her mouth as Fareeha pulls out of Aleksandra’s grip, taking a step back.

“Well.” Fareeha props a hand on her hip. “I would be jealous, except-“ And she turns, her body all one smooth motion as she faces the door and her eyes meet Angela’s with a wicked smile. “I would also like you to join us.”

If her hand wasn’t already around her mouth, Angela’s pretty sure her jaw would be on the floor. She flushes, with embarrassment and shame as much as the heat and desire. “You knew? How long?”  
“Long enough.” Aleksandra is the one who answers, her voice thick, and Angela quickly replays the scene in her mind, becoming redder as she realizes:  
“You two planned this,” she accuses, and Fareeha laughs as Aleksandra just shakes her head and crooks a finger at Angela.

She steps out into the doorway, determined not to give them any more satisfaction out of her reaction, walking forward as she strips off her running outfit, leaving a trail of clothes behind her as she approaches them. Fareeha, she notices, keeps her eyes on her face, her expression only flickering at the last moment when Angela pulls her hair out of its ponytail. Aleksandra, on the other hand, has been admiring her body openly, making soft sounds in her throat as each garment hit the floor. Both of those reactions help her regain some of her composure, and Angela pinches Fareeha’s arm between two fingers as her other hand unerringly finds the ticklish spot on Aleksandra’s side.

“No more teasing,” she scolds them, smiling as Aleksandra laughs and squirms, grabbing for her wrist to try and make her stop as Fareeha’s wet arms wrap around her waist.

"Whatever you want!" Aleksandra pleads, but Fareeha's breath washes over her ear in a quiet chuckle.  
"No promises."

Showering with these two was going to be impossible from now on. Angela can't say she minds.


End file.
